


The Fall and Rise of Victoria Argent

by tanwencooper



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hunters, Hunting, Origin Story, Werewolves, teenage romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanwencooper/pseuds/tanwencooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victoria wasn't born into the Argent family. She wasn't raised to fear werewolves and monsters. Once she was just a girl, a girl who fell in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall and Rise of Victoria Argent

**Author's Note:**

> It occurred to me that Victoria Argent, arguably one of the scariest people on the planet, married into the Argent family. She wasn't, as far as we know, born to be a werewolf hunter and it got me to wondering what would make her so hateful towards werewolves, that she would rather see a young boy dead than with her daughter. What could have happened to make a person want to do that. I came up with this.

            Victoria crept through the undergrowth, her long red hair getting caught amongst the rambling branches. Her arms were scratched and her shirt was torn but she didn’t care. She was going to meet _him_. Soon he would be near her and all the cuts and scratches would fade away.

            She emerged into the clearing in the woods. This was their special place. This was where they’d first met nearly four months ago. She shouldn’t have been there then and she certainly should be there now, after dark and alone. Not while there was a pack of mad wolves on the loose.

            The attacks had started just before he moved to town, people torn to shreds by some wild animal. The tests said it was a wolf but Victoria was pretty sure it was just a rabid dog. On weekends she volunteered at the local dog shelter and she’d seen enough rabid dogs in her time to know the signs. Even if the dogs did turn up in the clearing she’d be fine. He would be there and together they could fight of anything.

            “Hey there you.”

            Victoria turned to see him sitting in the branches of a tree watching her. How long had he been there? He was the most beautiful creature that she had ever seen. For a second she couldn’t move, frozen as she had been the first time their paths crossed, willing to lose herself in his face for hours.

            “Still on the hunt?” she asked.

            “Of course. There are still wolves in them there hills,” he said smiling. It was the smile that did Victoria in every time. That brilliant, toothy grin, so perfect and white.

            He jumped down, expertly landing on his feet as he did so.

            “You know, you shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said. “There’s a curfew.”

            “Neither should you.”

            “Yes,” he said, “but I’m a hunter. I can take care of myself against a big bad wolf.”

            Victoria hoisted the cross bow she’d been carrying up onto her shoulder.

            “So can I,” she said. “I’ve been hunting with my Dad since I was three. I’ve lived in this town since I was born. If anyone is going to take this thing down, it’s going to be me.”

            He shook his head and laughed.

            “You see, this is why I like you Victoria. Most people would steal their father’s gun to go hunting. You steal his crossbow.”

            Victoria was glad that the night was hiding her smile. He liked her. He’d said it, so it must be true. But how did he like her? As a hunting buddy? A friend? Like she liked him, spending all day at school dreaming of the moment they would finally lean in and kiss like she so badly wanted.

            “It’s quieter,” she said. “It won’t scare off the entire pack the second you pull the trigger. There’s also the fact that it _is_ stolen and we _are_ under a curfew right now. Bullets can be traced. Not so easy with arrows.”

            “You really are a clever girl.”

            He’d walked up so that he was only a few steps away now. His eyes kept tracing the lines of her face. One of the girls at school said that was a sign a guy liked you. She just wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him but another girl said that you shouldn’t do that, that you should always let the guy make the first move. This was why Victoria wasn’t really friends with any girls. Females, yes, but not girls. They were so silly and vacuous, always waiting for life to sweep them off their feet and never _doing_ anything. A girl wouldn’t have snuck out of her father’s house the second she heard there’d been a wolf attack to investigate but she had. Because she wasn’t a girl. She was a woman.

            “You’re shivering,” he said. He put his hand on her arm and she felt her body jump from the contact.

            “It’s cold,” she said. “Why are we meeting in the middle of the night anyway. Tracking is going to be really difficult in the dark.”

            “Wolves are nocturnal,” he said. “They’ll be out and about now.”

            “So you want to go stumbling about in the cold and dark looking for a pack of vicious man killing wolves?” she asked.

            “That was the plan.”

            “Great! Let’s go.”

            She hitched her cross bow over her shoulder but her fingers were too cold and fumbled the move. The bow fell to the ground and she heard something unhook itself. She tried to look at what was wrong just by the light of the moon but couldn’t quite make it out. Even when she did her fingers were still shaking too hard to click everything back into place. His hands closed around hers for a moment, soft and warm, before prying the crossbow away

            “Okay. We will. But first you warm up.”

            He walked over to where the fire circle was set up, beginning to collect together the twigs and leaves he needed to get a fire going.

            “Won’t that scare away the wolves?” she asked. “They’ll smell the smoke.”

            “Probably,” he said, striking the match. The tinder was dry and lit straight away. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. After all, tonight is a full moon.”

            She scoffed and took a space behind him, huddling over with her hands clamped under her arms to warm them up. After a few minutes the fire began to burn properly and she held her fingers over the flames but it was still only a tiny blaze.

            “Here,” he said.

            He took her hands and placed them under his own arms. For a second she forgot to breathe. His body was so warm, even in the cold of the night. She was still shaking but it had little to do with the cold now. He moved towards her and her body melted against his of its own accord. Was this it? Was it finally, after four months of dancing around each other, about to happen now?

            “’Toria?” he asked quietly.

            “Yes?” she said, all breathless hope and wonder. His eyes were still focused on the fire. They were so beautiful. Deep and brown, dancing with life as they reflected the flames.

            “Have you ever heard the story of Prometheus?”

            “No,” she said, slightly thrown. Perhaps he was going somewhere with this. “I mean not properly. He was a Greek god or something?”

            “Close. A Titan. He supposedly created man from clay. The myth he’s most famous for is when he stole fire from the gods and gifted it to the humans of this world. Fire was supposed to be a holy thing, meant only for the Gods, but Prometheus looked upon man as he toiled and could not bear his suffering so bestowed him with the gift of flame.”

            He sounded like he was quoting something, his face vague and distant but rapt.

            “That was nice of him,” she said. She turned to the warmth of the fire and said, “Thank you Prometheus.”

            “You should thank him. He got tied to a rock for the rest of eternity for his troubles. He’s currently somewhere having his liver pecked out by eagles over and over again.”

            “Ouch,” she said.

            He laughed again. She could feel it this time, feel it through his hot skin that was separated from her by one thin layer of cloth.

            “Another reason I like you. Most girls would have gone ‘ew, that’s gross’. Not you.”

            “I gutted my first deer when I was six,” she said. “I think I got over the ‘ew’ stage long ago.”

            He tilted his head sideways so that it rested on the top of hers. Was that a conscious thing? Did he know he was doing that? She had to try so hard to not curl her fingers into the cloth of his shirt and start kissing him there and then.

            “Prometheus had a son, you know?” he said, every word brushed his jaw along her silky hair.

            “Oh?”

            “Yeah. Prometheus told his son, this is before the whole liver thing, that there was a great flood coming and he should prepare for it.”

            “Kinda like Noah?”

            “Yeah. A bit like Noah,” he said. “Only this guy didn’t save animals or other people. Just him and his wife. He let the rest of the world get washed away.”

            “That was not very nice.”

            “Well, think about it. You watch your father try and do something nice for mankind and he gets punished for all eternity. It’s hardly going to make you want to save them all is it?”

            She thought about that. Her father was always telling her that she should help people, do whatever she can to ease the suffering of others. When they went hunting it wasn’t just about killing and being a man (metaphorically speaking), he always taught her to treat the animal with respect.

            “He still could have done something to help them. Warned them at least.”

            “Hmm,” he hummed. “You’re always looking out for others and if that looking out for others means you get to run around in the woods with a cross bow, well, what is a girl to do. It’s another reason why I like you.”

            She couldn’t keep her fingers from twitching that time. She heard the catch in his breath, knew that he’d felt it. Oh crap! Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap! What was he going to do? Did he know what it meant? What if he didn’t feel that way? What if he pulled away, out of her life?

            He lifted his head away from hers. She leaned back, knowing she should, but she couldn’t drag her gaze from his eyes, his beautiful, beautiful eyes that danced in the firelight. They looked almost red in its glow.

            “Do you know what Prometheus’s son was called?” he asked.

            “No,” she said.

            “Deucalion,” he said.

            “But that’s your name,” she said.

            “I was named after the son of an almost god. One who had the chance to save humanity and didn’t, so that it could be built again. Built better, stronger and faster than anyone.”

            Deucalion lifted his hand up and brushed away the hair from the side of her face. His fingertips grazed her skin and Victoria didn’t even try to stop herself from shivering.

            “I really do like you, you know,” he said.

            “You do?”

            “Yes.”

            As he spoke his lips were close enough to brush against hers. She gasped, parting them slightly as he pressed his closer. Her hands reached for his body, clasping into his side and drawing him in to her. Their tongues came together in a blur. Oh god she wanted this so much!

            He lowered her down onto the ground and she knew where this was headed. She didn’t care! She wanted him to take her, wanted to give him everything that she had to give him.

            “Yes,” she gasped as his lips moved to her neck.

            “Yes?” he said.

            “Yes. You can.”

            “I can what?” he said.

            “Anything. Anything you want. I’ll do it. I love you,” she said. She hadn’t meant to say it but the words were out now. And she did. Oh lord, she did.

            “Anything,” he said.

            “Anything.”

            He laughed low, a rumbling that came deep within his chest, almost a growl. He pressed their lips back together, his fingers digging into her skin so hard it hurt. She could feel his nails scratching down her side. Her tongue moved over his teeth, long and sharper than they had been before.

            She tried to pull away, realising that something was wrong but Deucalion had her pinned. She wrenched her face away from him and looked up at the horror above her.

            Deucalion’s face was twisted and gnarled into a vision from a horror movie. His eyes were glowing red, his forehead distended and teeth sharp. Fangs.

            Victoria screamed, kicking up violently to try and shake him off but he wouldn’t let her go. He was snapping at her, roaring into her face. She flailed out an arm towards the fire and clasped around on of the stones from the fire circle. It burned her hand but she still gripped it tight as she swung it at the monster’s head.

            The knock managed to stagger it enough for Victoria to roll away. She grabbed for her crossbow, pointing it at the figure’s heart as it shook its head and stood.

            “What… what… what are you?” she asked.

            “I’m a hunter, an alpha, top of the food chain,” said Deucalion. His fangs made it difficult for him to speak, most of the sound coming from his chest. “I am faster, stronger, better. You can be to, Victoria. I want you to be to.”

            She butted the weapon into her shoulder more, ready to pull the trigger if she had to.

            “Stay away from me!” she yelled.

            “Why? You are special Victoria but you could be so much more. Let me bite you. Run with my pack and we can be together forever.”

            Bite? Pack? What was he talking about? What was… no. That couldn’t be right. They didn’t exist, it couldn’t happen.

            “You’re a werewolf?” she said.

            “And you’re smart,” he said.

            Hateful and monstrous as his eyes were, Victoria could see the affection in them. The point of the bolt began to drop as she looked at him. At first she hadn’t seen it. Deucalion had been lost amongst the swollen muscles and teeth but he was still there. Still strong and beautiful. He took a step towards him.

            An arrow thudded into his leg and he roared in agony.

            Victoria turned to see a group of men running out of the trees.

            “Victoria!”

            “Dad?” she asked as she made out his figure running towards her.

            He reached her and pulled her backwards as the other men swarmed between her and Deucalion. She craned her neck to see if he was okay, if the arrow had punctured an artery but he was already pulling the bolt out and throwing it back at the men. They raised their guns and bows, each and every one of them armed and circling him tightly.

            “What’s going on?” she asked. “Dad? Deucalion?”

            “Oh is that its name?” asked one of the men she recognised. Gerard, who had hired his father as a trail guide while he hunted the wolf. He raised his gun and readied to take a shot.

            “No!” Victoria screamed. She tried to break free to get to Deucalion but her father was holding her back.

            “Best stay out of this Victoria,” her father urged her but she didn’t want to listen. Deucalion was hurt, bleeding and these men she barely knew were about to shoot him.

            “Hold her back,” said Gerard.

            “You said you had a code,” Victoria’s father said. “We don’t know if this one has hurt anyone.”

            “Yet,” said Gerard. He turned to the boy at his side. He was the same age as her, maybe a year or two older. “Pay attention Chris. This is why these things are so dangerous. They make a young girl believe she’s in love then tear her to pieces by the light of a full moon.”

            Deucalion roared at him.

            “You know nothing, Argent!” He spat out the last word like it was filthy.

            “I know more than you’re ever going to,” said Gerard. He raised the gun again.

            Victoria kicked her father in the shin and barrelled forward into Gerard’s back. He staggered but the gun shot still ran out into the night.

            Deucalion surged forward towards Victoria, dragging her away from the group. He held her forward as she covered his body with hers, knowing they wouldn’t risk shooting her to get to him.

            “Victoria! Get away! You don’t know what he is!” her father urged her.

            “And you don’t know who he is,” she shouted back. Behind her Deucalion was gnashing and growling, straining to get back to fighting the hunters. “Please Daddy, please.”

            Victoria’s father looked at her, then to the monster behind her. She could tell the moment his resolve clicked into place. She tried to stand between them but Deucalion tossed her aside as her father advanced on them both. There was a series of gun shots and then she watched as Deucalion’s arm arched back and gouged deep into her father’s chest. She watched as his teeth sank into her father’s neck and she watched as he stepped back and howled in triumph while below him her father bled to death.

            “No,” she said. “Daddy? Daddy no!”

            She scrambled forward on hands and knees, reaching for his body. There was blood bubbling from his ruptured throat and he could move his eyes just enough to look into hers as she touched his arm. Then he died.

            “No,” she whispered. “No. NO!”

            She screamed as she looked at the torn corpse of her father. She looked up searching, trying to understand what had happened when she saw him. His jaws were still red with her father’s blood. He didn’t look repentant. He didn’t look sorry. He didn’t look human.

            “Kill him,” said Gerard.

            Victoria was already on her feet. She grabbed her crossbow and aimed it at Deucalion’s heart but nothing happened when she pulled the trigger. She’d never fixed it. Instead she flailed out with it at his head but he caught it easily and wrenched it back from her. It crumpled in his hand like burned paper as it turned to ashes. He roared at her, all recognition gone from his features.

            She jerked backwards as someone pulled her away again. It was the boy, Chris. He punched forward, smashing something glass into Deucalion’s face. He howled again and staggered backwards, his face streamed with blood. He turned tail and ran into the woods impossibly fast.

            “Come on!” yelled Gerard as the hunters streamed after them.

            It was quiet in the clearing. The fire crackled and popped, forgotten in the excitement. Victoria turned slowly, back to the body of her father and sunk down to her knees at his side. He was still warm. Warm as Deucalion had been when she’d pressed her hands to his body only five minutes ago.

            She felt like she should be crying. She felt like she should be wailing and screaming and cursing any god who would listen but she didn’t. She felt numb. She felt dead.

            There was the sound of crunching leaves behind her. The boy, the one who had pulled her off of Deucalion, knelt down on the ground beside her. He closed her father’s eye lids and laid a handkerchief over the hideous rents in his neck. Blood quickly soaked into the white cloth, but it was still better.

            “They’ll get him,” he whispered. “That was wolf’s bane I threw into his eyes. It’ll blind him, for a bit anyway. It’ll slow him down enough for them to catch him.”

            Victoria continued to stare numbly at her father’s body, saying nothing.

            “I’ll leave you two alone,” said Chris softly. He made to get up but Victoria’s hand shot out to his. He stared at it for a second before settling back down beside her, and they stayed there together until the rest of the hunters returned the next morning, empty handed.

            “He escaped,” said Gerard. “But we’ll get him one day. We always get them in the end.”

            “There are more?” asked Victoria.

            Gerard nodded.

            “Hundreds more,” he said. “All over the world.”

            She looked up from the cold hunk of dead meat that had once been her father.

            “Then I want to help you kill them. I want to help kill every single last one.”


End file.
